


Call and Answer

by Vesperbat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 12:20:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16197434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vesperbat/pseuds/Vesperbat
Summary: Before Sirius departs for the tropics, Remus visits him, just for a night. It won't change the past. It won't stop the wheel of fate from turning. But, just for now, they're together.





	Call and Answer

**Author's Note:**

> Set just after the end of _Prisoner of Azkaban_ , supposing Remus was able to get in contact with Sirius before he left the country. 
> 
> (... I forgot that Remus doesn't wear glasses, so please just roll with my accidental glasses Lupin AU.)

The night was almost moonless, blessedly, but Remus couldn’t afford to conjure a light to brighten his path. That would have to wait. He kept his eyes on the darkened silhouette of the shabby little house as he approached it.

Of course it wouldn’t be lit. The place had to look as abandoned as possible. That didn’t mean he had to enjoy the ambiance. He swore in a whisper as his toe caught on a jagged flagstone, but he continued to pick his way across the neglected yard. A quick unlocking charm at the entrance – really, the security should have been better than that – and the door was open.

Only when Remus had the door shut and locked behind himself did he finally light his wand tip. It could only do so much against the pitch black, but it was enough to keep from stumbling over uneven boards and ramming into sparse furniture. Still, he kept one hand on the wall as he moved down the hallway. “Pads?” he called, trying not to raise his voice too much. “Are you here?”

From the depths of the hall, a faint voice issued: “What’s the password?”

“The password is ‘fuck yourself,’” called Remus, following its sound. “You didn’t give me one. Who else is going to turn up at 1 AM calling for Padfoot?”

“Must have slipped my mind,” called the voice, much closer now. Remus reached for the nearest door, but it swung open before he could touch it, and he found himself face to face with Sirius Black. The sickly wand light made Sirius look like a corpse, pale and wild-eyed, wreathed in a mess of black hair. He considered Remus for a moment, impassive, and motioned inside.

Remus slid past him. A few small candles burned, far from the heavily curtained windows. From what he could see, this was a sitting room, albeit one that hadn’t been touched in a number of years.

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Sirius said, settling into a dusty, overstuffed chair.

“I wasn’t followed,” said Remus. “Do you think I’ve lost my touch? I won’t get you captured.”

“It isn’t that! Look, it still isn’t safe. If anyone knew you were consorting with the likes of me… you could have at least waited until I was out of the country.”

Remus shrugged. “And wait all that time for an owl? It isn’t as if I have much to lose, at this point. Besides...” Remus stepped closer. “If you didn’t want me to come, why did you tell me where you were?”

Sirius’s jaw remained set, eyes on the corner of the room. Studying some very interesting cobwebs, no doubt.

“Sirius, I’m-”

“Don’t. Apologize.” He took a deep breath. “You’ve done that already, and anyway, the evidence was overwhelming. Even Dumbledore was fooled. In your place, I wouldn’t have thought any differently.”

“Fine,” said Remus, frowning. “If I can’t apologize, can I at least say that I’m relieved? That I’m glad to see you alive and in one piece? That… I missed you?” The last words came much more quietly than he had intended, but evidently it didn’t matter, because Sirius was looking at him now, eyes softening. Ever sharp, those ears.

“Of course you can,” said Sirius, carefully. Guardedly. “If it’s true.”

Remus crossed the room and knelt before him. The room was so dark, and he wanted to see him, really see him. The face was gaunt, the eyes haunted – but it was still the same face Remus remembered waking next to on lazy Sundays, grinning easily, inches from his own. They were the same eyes, deep as they ever were. “I never thought… oh, Sirius...”

Sirius rubbed the back of his neck. “Come on, now. Don’t go to pieces on me.”

“I’ll do whatever I want,” said Remus, suppressing a sob. “Sirius, you idiot. You fool. Twelve years.”

“Speaking of me being an idiot.” Sirius licked his lips. “Look, I’m the one who should apologize. I know I said- I mean, I stand by what I said-”

“What?” Remus hesitated. “I’m afraid you’ve said a lot of things, Sirius. You’ll have to be a little more specific.”

“I said Severus deserved it. He did. But you didn’t.”

Remus froze. Sirius might as well have dumped him into an ice bath. “That? Look, it doesn’t matter-”

Sirius’s eyes blazed. “It does!”

Just as quickly, Remus felt himself heating, the fire in his chest rising to match. “So, you can apologize for things that are over and done with, but I can’t? Do you have a monopoly on regret?”

Sirius sighed, and the blaze dimmed. “No, I… no. I’ve already made peace with what you regret. I don’t need you to say it. I don’t think that works the other way around.”

Remus ran his hands over his face, smearing his already grime-streaked glasses. He didn’t care. If this kept up, the tears would cloud his vision entirely soon enough. “Fine! Yes! I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over what you did to me that night, and I don’t know if I ever really will."

He had worked so hard. He had done so well. Sure, they'd gotten lax, and he would never quite forgive himself for that either, if he was being entirely honest. But delivering someone directly to his doorstep while he was in the throes of lycanthropy? What if he had hurt Severus? What if he'd killed him? Did Sirius ever stop to think-

It would have been over. Life, as he knew it, would have ended.

"But it’s done," said Remus. "It’s in the past. There’s nothing anyone can do about it now.”

“I can tell you I’m sorry,” said Sirius, “and I can mean it.” He reached out and straightened Remus’s skewed glasses.

“Well, I… whether I can forgive you isn’t a simple matter,” said Remus, wishing he could say anything else and still be telling the truth. There was no getting around it. “I just don’t want you to suffer over it. You’ve already suffered – enough. More than enough.” He lifted one trembling hand, but he stopped short, as if he might be about to plunge it into the ethereal chill of a ghost.

“What do you want?” Sirius took the hand and pressed it to his own cheek. Remus’s fingers sunk into warm and yielding flesh – though the bone beneath was alarmingly close to the surface.

Remus closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” said Sirius, leaning in. “There’s something I want. Something I haven’t been able to do in a very long time. May I?”

Remus nodded, breathless. Sirius kissed him. He didn’t complain about the sandpaper texture of Sirius’s stubble the way he might have years ago. He couldn’t think of anything he’d rather feel against his skin right now.

Anything, except…

Remus buried his hands in waves of black hair. “Oh!” He blinked. “Your hair. Your hair is an absolute mess.”

Sirius’s brows rose. “Haven’t really had time to stop at the barber.”

“You’ll have to let me take care of this before I leave,” said Remus, working his fingers experimentally into the snarls.

“I’ll have to, hmm?” Something of that old easy smile emerged. “I won’t let you cut it all off. I happen to think it makes me look roguishly handsome.”

“I think,” said Remus, “you’ll always look like a rogue, even if I were to shave you bald.”

“But a handsome one.”

Remus had to smile. “Yes,” he allowed. “A handsome one.”

“… seriously,” said Sirius, a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. “Don’t cut it too short.”

“I prefer you with a shaggy coat,” said Remus, falling upon him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed anyone like this. Sirius bit his lip. He moaned a little, though the sound was stifled by their entwined tongues, and they only separated when there was no more breath left between them.

“Remus!” said Sirius. “You’d think we were teenagers again. Should I call you Moony, then?”

“Only if I should call you Padfoot.” Remus started toward him again but stopped short, groaning. “My knees have decided to inform me that I am definitely not a teenager. Shove over.” He squeezed into the armchair alongside Sirius, who pulled his legs over his lap.

“It’s true,” he said, close enough for Remus to feel his breath. “We’re old men. You, a teacher, for goodness sake... in league with the enemy.”

“I wouldn’t have approved. Not in the slightest.”

“Needs must.” Sirius sighed. “I am sorry. You had every right to be there. If I could, I’d ring that man’s neck.”

“I know you would.” Remus touched his nose. “But I think we’ve got better things to think about than Severus Snape right now, Mr. Padfoot. Much better things.”

“Too right, Mr. Moony. Too right. I won’t waste another second.”

Remus relaxed, pulling Sirius closer. This wasn’t the time for murderous thoughts. He didn’t want vengeance or vindication. There would be plenty of time for that as the world closed in around them. They couldn’t stay like this.

But they did run together, once. They bounded through the woods, panting hard, dry leaves crunching beneath their paws. Sirius didn’t understand everything, and he never would, but he understood enough to be there. He understood enough to join with Remus in their euphoric night song, call and answer, answer and call.

Then, and now, Remus loved him.


End file.
